The Moon Dwellers (52 page)

Rivet’s knife falls
ou
t of his hand
and
to the side
.
I scoop
it up
and attack
, plunging the blade d
eep into his chest before he has
a ch
ance to react.
His eyes widen
and his lips let out a strange groan, a ghoulish gurgle usually reser
ved for the damned.
Which he is.
Or i
s about to be.
Blood trickles
from his lips and h
is life ebbs away swiftly.
Justice i
s served.

I’
d hope
d
my revenge would
lessen
the pain of the loss, but it doesn’t.
Now that Rivet is dead, the pain resurfaces
, flowing out of my eyes in rivers
of tears.
My breaths shorten and I fi
nd myself gasping and sobbing.
The urge to
wrench the knife from Rivet’s ch
est and plunge it into my own is so strong I see
my hands clench around the hilt.

An
image of my sister fills
my mind.
Then my father.
My mother.
Tawni, my only friend.
Tristan.
Tristan i
s last.
Some
one worth living
for.

At the moment
my grip loosens
o
n the knife, strong hands pull
m
e up and away from Rivet.
I do
n’
t know what is happening, but am
powerless to stop it.
On both sides
of me
a
re gargantuans
, guys so big
they could’ve
only
been manufactured by a ste
roidal experiment.
They drag
me to a cluster of similar-sized giants.

As they pull
me
int
o the circle of bodies, I gasp when I see who is in the center.
First I see
Tristan’s friend, the scared one
, the hero
.
He i
s beaten to a pulp, his fac
e puffy and red.
Next to him i
s Tristan, equally battered.

A young boy, no
older
than fifte
en, i
s talking to Tristan.
“…a
nswer me or she dies,” he says
.

I hear
Tristan mumble, “Already dead,” through bloodied teeth and swollen lips.

“No, brother—not dead.
You can add Rivet’s murder to her list of offenses.”

They dump
me in fro
nt of him.
Although his eyes are too puffy to widen, I see
a spark of r
ecognition flash across the blue orbs
.
He really believed I was dead
.
He must’ve seen Rivet hovering over me with the knife, just before he was captured by these goons.
He didn’t see me kill him.

The teenager
called him
brother
.
Then that must mean…
I pry
my eyes from Tristan to take another look at the brat.
From the different angle I can
see the family resemblance immediately.
To
Tristan;
to the President.
Tristan’s brother; his name i
s Killen
, I remember
.
Clearly not the same type of guy
as Tristan.
Or at least I hope they a
re different.
Very different.
Opposites would be good.

The
fierce sound of bombs detonating resonates all around us.
It i
s a full
-
scale attack on the city.

Tristan i
s still staring at
me, almost smiling—if that is
possible in his current state.

“ANSWER MY QUESTION!” Killen ro
ars
, kicking Tristan in the stomach with the heel of his boot.

Tristan grunts, drops his head to his knees, spi
t
s out a chunk of blood.
Lifts his head and speaks
through gritted teeth: “I’ll tell you everything once Adele is safe.”

Even in his condit
ion, the way he says it
send
s
tingles up my spine.
Not i
n a nervous/scary way, but in a
n
it-feels-good-to-have-someone-care-what-happens-to-you kind of way.

The bomb explodes
so close that the shrapnel
should rip us apart.
Only it doesn’t because of the wall of
burly sun dwellers
ringing us
.

They take the worst of it.

The men who ar
en’t killed by the sharp blades of meta
l spinning in every direction a
re knocked off their fee
t by the shockwave that follows.
I am
,
too, getting blasted into Tristan, landing on him hard, kneeing him in the chest and elbowing him in the
head
.
I feel so bad when I see
the look of pain on his face.

But there i
sn’t time for sympathy.
We might only have on
e chance to get away.
I start
to pull him to his feet, when suddenly another set of
arms i
s helping me.

“Tawni!” I practically shriek when I see
my friend n
ext to me.
“Where’s—” I start
to say.

“Elsey’s safe.
We have to move.”

Tawni helps
me ge
t Tristan to his feet, and I am
about to rope one of his arms around my shoulders when
I hear
a shout.
“You’re no
t going anywhere!” Killen roars, striding toward me.
He probably thinks I’m
just a normal, weak girl.

I forearm him in the face and use
a sweep kick to trip him
up
.
Still full of rag
e because of everything that has
h
appened, I add
a couple of kicks to the skull
for g
ood measure and to ensure he does
n’t come after us.

I turn
my a
ttention back to Tristan, who is swaying and looks
li
ke he might collapse, or vomit
,
or both,
at any second.
Tawni i
s helping Tristan’s friend get to his feet.

The guards that weren’t killed by the bomb a
re pushing to their knees, try
ing to regain their feet.
I have
the urge to pick up one of their dropped weapons, blast them to pieces.

I ta
k
e
a
deep breath and the urge passes
.
I settle on
kicking each o
f them in the ribs so they
collapse back on their stomachs.

We hobble
away in tandem, just a couple of four-legged, four-armed,
two-headed beasts.
As Tawni leads, I remember.
“What about Cole?” I say
, my eyes well
ing up once more.
I choke
, trying to get the words out.
“I mean—his body.”

“Adele, we can’t,” Tawni says
, her eyes full o
f compassion.
Unlike me, she isn’t crying, isn’t emotional.
I don’t understand how she can
be so strong when her best friend
has
been brutally murdered right in front of us.

“But how are you—”

“I’m not okay, Adele.
Not even close.
I just can’t think about it right now.
Please.”

I understand.
Somehow she i
s blocking out the pain, the anguish, everything.
I wish
I can
do the same.

We get to the stairs and descend
from
the
train platform.
Acrid smoke sti
ng
s
my e
yes and the smell of fire burns my nose.
The station i
s o
n the edge of the city, so we a
re able to slip down a deserted street and get lost in the ma
ze of intersections.
Well,
I am lost.
Tawni kno
w
s exactly where we a
re going.

Thankfully, it i
s a short trip, b
ecause Tristan and his friend a
re moving painfully slow and getting s
lower by the minute.
We reach
a
nondescript
building with a black door
.
Tawni stops and knocks
firmly three times.
A second later the door opens
.

“Adele!” Elsey wails
, seeing my disheveled appearance and
bruised skull.
It probably doesn’t help that I’m
covered in blood from
the cuts on
Tristan’s head, which i
s slumped on my shou
lder.
I am
a mess.

“I’m fine, El
, but these guys need medical attention.”

“I found supplies,” Elsey says
, holding the door
and letting us past.
When we are all in, she says
, “There’s a basement.
We should be safe from the bombing there.
Follow me.”

We follow
my stalwart sister down a hall to a landing, wh
ere
crumbling
steps le
ad downwards.
She
li
gh
t
s a
thick
candle, which i
s good, beca
use otherwise we
will
surely
break
our necks on the crooked, uneven staircase.

The room at the bottom i
s like a tomb,
surrounded by heavy stone block walls
.
Another candle si
t
s
in the corner, shedding soft
yellow
light on the room.

I’m not sure how she did it all so fast, but Els
ey has
managed to prepare for our arrival
.
She has almost everything we need
:
towels, a bowl of water, some kind of paint-on antiseptic in a black jar, long, thick bandages, crispy wafers for eating, more jugs of water.
She
’s
even managed to find a couple of pillows and two thin mattresses to make things more comfortable for the wounded.

I help
Trista
n lie on his back and Tawni does
the same fo
r his friend.
They both groan as they settle
in.
I kno
w nothing about first
aid, but Tawni seems
to have it covered.

I
nspecting their wounds, she says
, “You’re going to be just fine.”

She begi
n
s
working w
ith what Elsey has
provided, wetting a couple
of
towels and handing
one to
me.
I try
to mimic her gentle cleaning motions.
Tristan’s friend almost seems
soothed by t
he wet towel, but when I touch Tristan he stiffens.
My arm stiffens
, too, although I’m not sure why.

I go
about
cleaning his face first.
He has
a deep cu
t above his right eye, which has
bled all down his face.
Although I am
clean
ing all around his eyes, he keeps
them
open, watching me.
His gaze i
s electric, powerful, and althou
gh I try to focus on what I am doing, my eyes keep
flitting back to his r
oyal blue eyes.
Each time they do, I feel
more and more drawn to him
.
It i
s the weirdest t
hing: although neither of us
say
s
a
word
, it feels like we a
re getting to know each other, getting comfortable together.